


ever unto salvation

by atlantisairlock



Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Disabled Character, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Family Feels, Gen, Minor Violence, Muteness, Not Canon Compliant, Past Child Abuse, Pre-Poly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-20 08:04:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3642801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atlantisairlock/pseuds/atlantisairlock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You will find a fortune, though it will not be the one you seek. But first... first you must travel a long and difficult road, a road fraught with peril."</p>
            </blockquote>





	ever unto salvation

**Author's Note:**

> title & summary from 'o brother, where are thou' by ethan & joel coen.

She is young, and foolish, and it's harder than she imagined it would be.

The moment the pregnancy test comes out positive, Jamie starts planning. She knows for a fact that she can't keep the baby; she can bring it to term, but she can't be a mother. She isn't cut out to be a mother - she's _Moriarty._ Love is a luxury she can't afford. So she gathers a list of suitable families amongst the people she knows she can rely on. She does deeper digging into their backgrounds, speaks with them, makes preparations, so that by the time nine months is over, she is crystal clear on where and how her baby is going to grow up, who's going to raise them, who's going to keep them safe.

It is her first birth - probably her last, too - and it's not easy. Jamie quietly checks herself into a small, unassuming hospital which doesn't ask questions. She digs her nails into her palm when the contractions come and doesn't make a sound for six solid hours. If the doctors on duty are terrified by this, they don't let it show; they simply lift her child into her arms and smile at her, congratulate her on the birth of a healthy baby daughter.

Jamie thinks that if there's ever a need to murder them in future, she'll make it as quick and painless as she can manage.

There are no words to describe the way her heart seems to expand to fill her chest when she looks down at the screaming child in her arms. She has carried this girl for nine months now, and there's an acute sense of loss realising that her daughter is no longer a part of her, and that she never will be, not really. 

Before the week is up, Kayden Fuller is in the arms of another woman, the daughter of a different family, and Jamie Moriarty cuts her ties forever.

 

 

First rule: Jamie Moriarty lies. 

Of course she doesn't divorce herself entirely from Kayden. Of course she doesn't go jet-setting off and abandoning her daughter forever. Jamie steals around the apartment ever so often; not enough that it'll draw suspicion, stealthily enough that nobody even realises she's there, but just enough to make sure. She takes on the role of silent protector as the Fullers raise Kayden as their own. 

They do it well. They are good parents for her daughter, and somewhere in the depths of her heart, Jamie wonders if she wishes they weren't. If she wishes she had a proper, rational reason for wanting to take Kayden back from them. 

But she's made her decision, and that's something she understands. She could never, on good conscience, raise Kayden in a world where everyone lies and there's always a target trained on her back. She can't risk that vulnerability. And she can't risk her daughter.

When Kayden turns two, Jamie leaves.

 

 

She does business all around the world for half a decade, from shady back-alley dealers to white-collar politicians sitting at the very top of the food chain. She spends more time in planes that any human should ever have to, crossing oceans and continents and never having a hair out of place.

In Paris, she even meets a pair of consulting detective extraordinaires; despite their vastly differing professions, she even manages to become friends of a sort with Joan and Sherlock. Especially when she delivers a birthday present for Joan in the form of four bound, stunned child traffickers sitting on their doorstep, crying like someone put the fear of God in them. 

Sherlock tells Jamie that Joan had a laugh, and that makes Jamie smile. 

 

 

It is five entire years before Jamie sets foot in New York again.

On one hand, that's taken some of the heat off her and one of her aliases. On the other, she realises Kayden's already seven. 

The first thing she does after tying up some loose ends is to head down to the Fullers' apartment. From her vantage point, everything looks perfectly normal, almost exactly the same as the last time she saw them. She gets to watch a more grown-up Kayden playing with some toy trains on the living room carpet, pushing them around a makeshift track. 

 _God_ , Jamie thinks. Could she have given Kayden that kind of life? Would her daughter have had to grow up learning how to shoot a gun before she could recite her seven times table? Did she make the right choice?

It isn't until she sees the belt and the bruises that she realises she might not have. 

 

 

It takes her less than an hour to understand what transpired in the time she was gone; hospital records are hacked, gossip is heard, eavesdropping is conducted. 

Kayden Fuller got into an accident when she was four, and it impaired her Broca's area, and now her daughter is mute. And that wouldn't be too bad, that would be perfectly fine, but apparently the Fullers want nothing less than a perfect child. 

Jamie Moriarty, untouchable master criminal, has to throw up into a drain by the side of the road before she can make a proper plan again. It sits pebble-hard in her throat that she left her child to physical abuse for three years, at the hands of people she thought she could trust, or at least rely on. 

When she returns to the apartment that night, she has enough firepower on her to blow up the Seine - not that she needs it. She opens a vent and drops into the living room when Kayden's foster father's pulling a belt on his adopted daughter, screaming ableist slurs at her. In hindsight, Jamie's not sure how she didn't tear him apart with her bare hands right then, but she manages to keep her head long enough to fend off his instinctive attack, put her hands around his neck and squeeze.

He goes down without a drop of blood spilled. Getting rid of Kayden's foster mother isn't so neat and tidy; Jamie ends up having to shoot her through the temple before her screaming brings someone around. There is gunshot residue and blood spatter on her shirt and pants when she exits to the living room to kneel in front of Kayden, who's staring at her like she's a _hero,_ like she hung the stars in the sky. 

"Kayden?" She deliberately adjusts her posture so she's as non-threatening as possible, her tone light and gentle. "Sweetheart, I'm going to take you someplace safe, somewhere where nobody will hurt you anymore. Is that okay? Nod if that's okay."

Kayden's nervous; that's explainable. She might not really be able to comprehend death at her young age, but seeing her foster parents lying prone, not moving - well, even the youngest kid right out of their cot would inherently understand that something's wrong. But there's a certain trust in her eyes; a trust that comes from seeing somebody stop their attacker from hurting them. 

Once Kayden nods in affirmation, Jamie gets up and starts looking around the apartment. "I'm going to get some of your clothes, and you can pack things you want to take away from the house. You're not coming back here, do you understand? So take whatever you want. I promise you, you will never have to be hurt again."

It is a promise she would die before she breaks.

 

 

It's raining when Jamie shuts the front door of the apartment behind them. She sends off a quick text to call in a favour, making sure the crime scene'll be cleaned up before dawn. When she puts her phone back into her pocket, Jamie feels a wave of insecurity, something that doesn't come about so often. Can she trust him to do his job? Can she trust him not to turn on her?

Maybe she isn't so good at reading people after all?

She tries not to think on it, pulling her hoodie over Kayden's head. It's three sizes too big for her but it covers her head and arms, keeping her sheltered from the rain. It's a little after midnight and there aren't a lot of people on the street, but Jamie hurries through the torrential downpour anyway. She can't keep Kayden at any of her own safe houses. She understands that. Jamie knows she has to get her somewhere truly safe, and there's only two people she believes she can trust right now.

The brownstone is still two blocks away.

 

 

Unsurprisingly, it's Joan who answers the door, still bright-eyed with a cup of tea in her hand. Her eyes narrow at the sight of a soaking wet Jamie Moriarty standing there, hair matted, with a bag in one hand and a child in another. 

"Jamie?" Joan says in disbelief, instinctively opening the door a bit wider.

"Please," Jamie responds. It sounds more like a plea than she imagined it would, but at this moment she can't bring herself to care. "Joan, please, I need your help."

She's in the house in two seconds flat, and to her credit, Joan doesn't ask aggravating questions; she simply adapts to the situation. Once Jamie sets Kayden down onto the floor, Joan points her to the bathroom. "She's sopping wet. Give her a warm shower; I'll take her jacket to the laundry room and make her some hot milk." Before Jamie can say a word Joan's already carting the hoodie away into the kitchen.

Jamie breathes a sigh of relief she didn't even realise she was holding.

 

 

By the time Jamie's done giving Kayden a quick shower - during which she flinches enough times to make Jamie want to resurrect her parents just to kill them again - drying her off and helping her into a set of pajamas stolen from home, Joan's got a glass of milk on the table and another cup of tea, presumably for Jamie. Sherlock's by her side, looking bleary and slightly confused. "What the hell is going on?"

"Language," Joan chides, nudging him in the ribs, and he has the grace to look slightly abashed. Jamie takes Kayden's hand and helps her onto the sofa so she can have a drink. Kayden cautiously reaches out for the tall glass, taking a sip, before she puts her arms around Jamie's neck and gives her a hug. 

"I promised you won't be hurt any longer," Jamie says, fierce and firm. "And you won't. Drink up, okay?"

She doesn't even realise when Joan comes to her side, smiling reassuringly at Kayden and taking one small hand in hers. "You are safe here." She gives Jamie a meaningful glance.  _Shall we talk?_

They leave Kayden with her milk, some cookies and a TV programme to lull her to sleep, before the trio settle around the dining table. 

Sherlock is sensitive and understanding, as ever. "Jamie, what the hell is going on? Who is that kid? And why do you have blood all over your shirt?" 

Jamie steels herself - she can trust these people. If the whole world burns and goes to hell, she can trust Joan and Sherlock - at least with  _this._ "That's my daughter."

Even calm, cool-headed Joan manages to choke on her tea. "I'm sorry, _what?_ Daughter? No, I think we're going to need the full story here." 

Jamie sighs. "Seven years ago, I gave birth to a daughter. I gave her up for adoption, for reasons evident. I don't exactly have a very... family-friendly career." There's a grimace on Sherlock's face that tells her everything she needs to know about his opinion on _that_. "She was adopted by two of my associates. People I... trusted to raise her well. Five years back I went to do business out of New York. You know that bit. Apparently while I was away, she got into an accident, and she went mute. And then..." Jamie grits her teeth, clenching her fists so tight that her knuckles go white. Her voice is quieter when she speaks again. "Did you see the bruises? Because I saw the fucking bruises."

There is an extremely heavy silence for a minute before Joan brings her half-full cup to her lips and drains it. "Did you kill them?"

"Yes. I've got a cleaner who's probably finishing the job right now."

Even Sherlock nods at this. "I don't approve of your methods, Jamie, and I would recommend you burn your clothes right now. But I understand." His jaw is set hard and Jamie thinks his glass might shatter in his hand. "I understand."

"The question is, what are you going to do now?"

A sudden swell of utter exhaustion consumes her at the thought of beyond-present - how to keep Kayden safe in the long term. "I don't know," she replies, putting her head in her hands. "I don't know."

Another long silence, one that Joan breaks. "You could stay."

 

 

So she stays.

 

 

The dynamic in the brownstone changes with a child around. Jamie catches Sherlock poring over the sign language manual he nicked from her room, running through the alphabet, which Kayden masters in half the time. Joan takes her out on walks when Jamie's doing  _business_ in her room. They have dinner together on the sofa, watching cartoons which make Kayden smile. It has its funny moments, when Kayden signs something and Jamie and Joan understand, of course, but Sherlock flips despairingly through his manual, imploring her to slow down while he figures out what he's saying. There's a sparkle in Kayden's eyes when he does that, and Jamie sometimes wonders if he isn't just doing his best to make her happy. 

 _Love is for children,_ but maybe it isn't, not really.

For the first time in her life, Jamie thinks she could be more than just  _Moriarty._ Jamie thinks she could be a mother.

 

 

Kayden brings back an art project from school five months later. It's the classic "My Family" portrait that every kid draws. It features a smiley blonde-haired figure standing beside another tall, slim lady, a man reading a sign language handbook and a little girl with blue eyes. Sherlock groans good-naturedly at the depiction, and Joan puts it on the fridge. Jamie ruffles Kayden's hair, and for the very first time since she rescued her daughter, Kayden signs  _I love you_ and  _mommy_ at her.

The very next day, Jamie starts shutting down her criminal empire. 

 

 

"You're sure," Joan confronts her a week after a suspicious warehouse burns down. Jamie nods with a smile on her face, plucking another slip of paper off her pinboard and burning it. "There's more to me than Moriarty, you know. I'm beginning to realise that for myself." 

There's nothing but comfortable silence in Jamie's room for a few minutes, before Joan leans against the doorframe, staring down at Jamie. "Are we your family, too?"

She catches Joan's eye and smirks. A smile spreads across the detective's face as she opens the door to let herself out. "Dinner's in ten."

The hinges squeak. Jamie hears Kayden's footsteps from outside, and the muffled sound of Joan laughing. She drops the ashes into the bin at her feet, leaning back and closing her eyes.

She is older, and wiser, and perhaps the world is a dark, dark place, but there are pockets of light in it that make it worth exploring. Maybe instead of being the villain, Moriarty could become the hero Kayden saw when she looked at the woman who killed her foster parents and saved her life. 

Jamie gets up, and goes for dinner. 

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: i am not a neurology student; the medical bit about broca's area is probably dubious. suspend reality.


End file.
